Scripted
by staceycj
Summary: Chuck brings an unexpected visitor to Sam and Dean's door.
1. Chapter 1

Chuck jittered beside me as we waited for the door of the crappy motel room to open. Ever since I met this crazy author of the television series I was about to be the star of, I knew he was a little off center, a little jumpy, but standing here in front of this green door that had seen better days, he seemed right about to jump clear out of his skin.

"Who is it?" the person on the other side called.

"It's me." There was an audible sigh and the door swung open.

"What now Chuck?" the voice asked as the door was opening and then the man on the other side saw me, and his whole demeanor changed. It went from being laid back, and annoyed to rigid and cautious in less time than it took most to blink. In my day I'd seen several actors that were able to change in and out of character quickly, but I'd never seen any actor, no matter the caliber, change that quickly. "Who the hell are you?" the man asked.

"Aaron Sumpter." I stated before I realized it. The man's voice was commanding and had an edge of danger in it.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" He asked. I wanted to laugh. I was a well sought out actor, and this prick didn't know who the hell I was. What are we doing here anyway? Why was the crazy author bringing me to this obvious jerk?

"He's an actor."

"An actor? What?" There was a pause and then realization sparked. He grabbed Chuck by the shoulder drug him inside all the while Chuck making pain noises.

"What the hell are you doing bringing some pretty boy actor to my door?"

"He's from the show."

"The show?"

"The one you and Sam said was okay to do." Chuck said nervously.

"Oh. The one that Sam got me to agree to while I was drunk. Whatever. That doesn't answer why you brought the pretty boy here."

"I want him to get first hand experience."

"With what?"

"You and Sam."

"Chuck…" the other man said with a sigh.

"Just for the day."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Dean…"

"No! I don't want some stranger spying on me. That's creepy. Bad enough I've got angels and demons and whatever else on my back and watching me like a hawk. I don't need some pretty boy following me around taking notes on how I walk and talk. No."

I had heard enough. I pushed through the door and gave Chuck an accusatory look. "Wait. This guy. This is the guy that is the inspiration for the books."

"Inspiration hell! That is my life he's been writing about."

"Oh, so not only is he a prick but he's delusional too."

"Buddy, if I were you I'd keep my freaking mouth shut before all of those pretty veneers get knocked out of your mouth."

"Great, prick, delusional, and violent. Let's get the hell out of here." Chuck didn't move, he looked at me for a minute and then back at the other, considering something.

"He's not delusional Aaron. He's the real deal. He's the real Dean Winchester. Hunter."

"Oh come on Chuck. You can't believe that this douch actually goes out and kills ghosts."

"I've seen him do it. Him and his brother."

"Oh come on. It's fiction." Now this was way too much for me. I'm an actor, fiction is my business, but this, this stuff that was written, no way in the world could it possibly be accurate. No way in hell could the stuff that I'd read about happen to anyone and they still be standing.

"No, pretty boy, it's not fiction, it's me and m'brother's life."

"Where is Sam?" Chuck asked.

"We're in California because a Stanford friend called and wanted to see Sam. Every now and then we do that."

"I never knew that."

"Angels don't care about our "non-scripted" lives." Then he turned and looked at me. Those green eyes sliced right through me, he was looking deeper, deeper than I'd ever been looked at before, I think he could actually see my soul. "So, you think that you are going to play…"

"Dean." I said quickly fighting the urge to back up as he moved closer to me. He gave a small laugh and ran a hand down his face.

"You think you can play me?" he turned to Chuck. "They think some pretty boy actor who probably hasn't done a hard day's work in his whole life, can play me?"

"He looks like you."

"No he doesn't. He looks like an actor." Disgustedly he flipped my longish blonde hair. "Yeah, I'd like to have that kind of hair when I'm in the middle of a sewer with a flashlight looking for a shapeshifter." Then he looked down at my feet. "Or wearing expensive leather boots, those are all for show and wouldn't get you ten feet running full throttle in a forest."

"Wardrobe will fix it." I said dumbly. Dean laughed at me again and sighed.

"Wardrobe will fix it. Sure. I wish it was that easy. Oh that's right. My life will be your fiction. Whatever. Get the hell out of my real life. I've got to live it so you can have a script to work with."

Chuck looked defeated and he indicated that we should leave. I turned and looked at Dean's back and said. "If it is all true, then why don't you prove it to me?"

"What?"

"Take me on one of these supposed hunts."

"I don't' have time to take pretty boy actors out and show them how to ghank a ghost, or monster. I've got an apocalypse to stop. Just go back to LA, let the wardrobe people put you in clothes that are more expensive than my car, and pretend to run through the forest, in your safe little environment, where you know you won't ever die. Go. Go back to that life pretty boy." Something about this man ruffled my feathers and made me want to be defiant and confrontational.

"I want to go."

"No." We stood there starring at each other, his eyes boring holes into mine, and I was hoping that I was affecting a similar stare, one that at least would prove to him that I was serious, and didn't betray my intimidation and fear.

"If you are telling me the truth then there shouldn't be a problem."

"What's going on?" a voice asked from the door. Dean's eyes went up and his face relaxed a minute bit. "Chuck?"

"Sam….ummmm…..meet Aaron Sumpter."

"The actor?"

"Yeah. He's going to play Dean."

"He wants to go on a hunt with us Sammy. Wants me to prove that our lives are what we say they are." Sammy laughed.

"Dude, you don't want that. Go back to Hollywood."

"If this crap is real, then I want to go with you guys."

"Chuck?"

"I wanted him to see what he was getting into. I wanted him….to do you guys justice. I thought you two deserved at least that much."

I watched as Sammy and Dean looked at each other over my head. "I guess we could take that small hunt upstate."

"We don't have time for that Sammy."

Sammy shrugged. "We could make the time. I mean, it is hurting people, and that's what we do." Dean sighed, and I realized right then that he was going to cave in and do what the bigger man wanted. It was amazing. The complete change when Sammy entered the room was astounding, he became lighter and more reasonable.

"I suppose you're right Sammy." He looked at me pointedly. "Get your shit together. We're going to be at this for a couple of days." And with that Dean turned and went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Thanks Sammy." I said with a smile, and the bigger man gave me the same daggers that his older brother had given me moments before his entrance.

"He is the only person who calls me Sammy." He said threateningly and I was suddenly as scared of this man as I was the other. Maybe I didn't know what I was getting into.


	2. Chapter 2

I was told to be at the door at 6AM and if "my pretty boy actor ass wasn't there, they were just going to leave me behind." And, honestly, I believe that. I was there, early mind you, just to make sure that they wouldn't' take off early and leave my ass behind just for good measure. I think Dean would do that, I'm pretty sure of it actually.

I got to the door and the brothers were arguing so loudly you could hear them outside. "I don't' even know why you let Chuck talk you into signing off on this TV thing?!"

"We wouldn't let him publish any more books…"

"Oh yeah, and this whole TV thing makes it less intrusive."

"But he needed the money, and honestly so did we."

"We do just fine Sam. And for God's sake he's a prophet, the dicks upstairs will figure out some way to keep him from starving."

"That's not the point…"

"Then what is the point Sammy? You hoping that Brad Pitt comes in to play you?"

"God. You are so frustrating."

"Then it's true! That's what you're hoping for. I knew you had to have a man crush on the guy."

"Dean. Chuck needed this gig. Needed it. We owe him."

"Owe him WHAT?! He's just been running around airing our dirty laundry. He owes us."

"Whatever. The thing is. WE agreed. And this Aaron guy seems to just want to get it right." There was a pause in the conversation. "Don't' roll your eyes at me Dean. You can't tell me that if he didn't come here and do exactly what he is doing right now…"

"You mean standing in front of the door listening to this entire conversation?" I stood there stunned, they knew. Sam opened the door, not looking at me, but continuing his argument with Dean.

"Well, yeah that and coming here and learning about us. If you were to turn on the television when the show came on and see it, and he didn't play you right, you would have a fit and you know it Dean."

"Whatever. You coming in or what?" Dean demanded. I hurried inside. "But seriously Sam, I can't believe you agreed to it in the first place."

"I got you to agree."

"I was drunk."

"But you said yes."

"That's cheating."

"Nope. You always know what you are doing even when you are drunk, so I don't buy that." Dean gave Sam a glare that would set most people on fire and went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"The only place we get privacy is the bathroom, so slamming the door is equivalent to being a jerk."

"I heard that bitch!" I suppressed a laugh, something told me that I would live longer if I did. Sam shook his head and went back to his duffel and began putting clothes inside of it.

"The first thing you need to be more aware of, if you are going to be spending time with us, is the salt lines."

"What?"

"The salt line you broke as you walked into the room." I looked behind me and sure enough there was a thin line of salt on the floor just beyond the door's reach.

"What's the salt for?"

"Keeps the supernatural baddies out."

"You can't be serious, salt?" I asked. What? Was this yutz going to tell me that pepper and mustard mixed would cure cancer.

"Salt. It symbolizes purity…" The bathroom door swung open and Dean stood there and glared at his brother, took his toothbrush out of his mouth and mumbled.

"He doesn't care Sammy."

"But he needs to know."

"All he needs to know is that there are salt lines down for our protection and he needs to be careful of them. He doesn't need to know everything."

"Don't be like Dad." Sam said. And apparently that was an insult, because if Dean was seething earlier, now he was down right lethal.

"Low blow Sammy. Low blow." And the door slammed again.

"Just be careful of the salt." Sam said to me. I nodded. Note to self, don't piss Dean off and be careful of the salt.

Dean seemed to be over it when he came out of the bathroom and threw his toiletries bag inside his duffel. "You scan the room?" He asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"Let's get out of here." I followed behind Sam and they began to get inside the Impala. I went behind them and started for my car when Dean stopped me.

"Where in the hell do you think you're goin?"

"I'm getting into my car to follow."

"Nope. You are not following me in some prissy ass car. Get in the back pretty boy."

"My name is Aaron."

"Yeah whatever." I didn't move when he thought I should have and urged me, not so politely, to get a move on.

With my leather bag tucked neatly beside Dean and Sam's military issue duffel bags I encouraged to get in the back of the late 60s beast and the car took off at break neck speed with hard rock blaring. Mind you it was wasn't 6:30 yet. What a way to wake up.

The music, finally, blissfully stopped somewhere around 11, and the brothers began discussing whatever Sam had been looking at since we pulled away, and I pulled out my script to begin studying and getting ready for the first episode. Before I knew what was going on, a hand came and swiped my script out of my hand and threw it out of the window.

"Hey! What the hell?! That was my script!"

"This is the script pretty boy." Dean said and threw a file back at me. "Since you didn't listen to Sam's briefing, you better read up quick. We're going to be there in an hour."

"What briefing?"

"If you had been listening you would know. I suggest you just get busy reading pretty boy." And then the music blared again. Sam turned to face the window and I was effectively cut off from their inner circle. I looked down at the file in my lap and sighed.

I began reading and was oddly intrigued, a woman in the early 1900s had committed suicide in her home. Her name was Maggie Anderson, and she was 30 when she died. There wasn't a suicide note, or anything. After that, there seemed to be an odd death in the house ever ten years, in the month of April. Just like now.

"So," I yelled over the music. "Dean? Sam?" I yelled and waited. Dean visibly sighed and turned the radio down.

"What pretty boy?"

I did my best to ignore the nick name, took a breath and said, "So, you guys think this Maggie is causing people to die?"

"That's one thought." Dean said.

"How can someone who is dead do that?"

"She's a ghost genius." Dean said unceremoniously. "Ghosts get pissy and they do things like killing people."

"I still don't believe this."

"Oh, you'll believe it when you've been thrown back first into a book case half as many times as I have." Dean said.

And that my friends, explains Dean Winchester. Dean pulled up to the town, parked, and he and Sam went through the glove box and pulled out what looked like FBI wallets.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Acting. You should try it sometime pretty boy." Dean said with a smirk and got out of the car. My God is that man a son of a bitch.


	3. Chapter 3

After that little jab things became a blur. Before I knew what I was about, both of them had changed from their casual, blue collar, tired clothes into suits, that while not tailor made, fit them well enough to make them look official.

"Come on pretty boy, let's go." Dean said and I trailed behind them like a child following his big brothers. We went up to a rather nice two story house, that we just seemed to find, not that either brother had anything more than a house number to go by. They rang the door bell and they introduced themselves and Agent Page and Agent Lennon, and me as the agent in training Spears. What we are doing was so illegal I felt twitchy just listening to them give the introductions.

We were invited into the house and we were given cookies and juice, which Sam declined and Dean ate with delight, getting crumbs all over his suit, and the brothers began to discuss the recent death of the woman's daughter. They asked questions that didn't make sense to me, and seemed to confuse the woman whom they interviewed.

We left after Dean gave Sam a look, and Sam excused us and as soon as the door closed behind us Dean said, "I don't know if it's a ghost."

"I don't know if it is either. Doesn't really sound like it."

"But we've seen ghosts do some whacked out things. What did you think pretty boy?"

"Think about what?"

"About what she said? Any great insight?"

"She seemed confused."

"He's so perceptive isn't he Sam?"

"Dean, give the guy a break, he hasn't' been doing this his whole life."

"But he's going to pretend like he has. Isn't that what you do all day pretty boy? Pretend?"

"I'm good at my job."

"Can't be too hard to be good at a job where you get to stand around and the hardest thing you have to do all day is remember your lines." I wanted to lash out. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to take Dean Winchester right in the middle of this quiet suburban street. He was a son of a bitch. I have no clue why in the hell his brother has stayed around this long. If I were his brother I would have taken off and never ever called or come back.

"What you missed pretty boy is that the thing that's killing these people, seems to be tied to the seasons."

"But you gave me something on a ghost to read about. Isn't that what we are after?" I felt completely stupid just saying that.

"Just screwing with you."

"What?"

"We just wanted to see if you were paying attention." Dean said.

"What it probably is, is a Pagan God that is tied to the seasons, and it is taking sacrifices, or someone is sacrificing people to it."

"A Pagan God?" Now this was just plain silly. They couldn't seriously believe this.

"Yeah." Sam said.

"You can't be serious."

"We've met a couple of them." Sam said casually as if meeting a Pagan God happened every day.

"Really."

"Yeah, we met the ones that the Christmas rituals were based from."

"They were just awesome." Dean said with a sigh.

"You still have the scar?" Sam asked.

"No. That was one of those that got erased when Cass got me."

Sam nodded, and I was confused even more than I already was, which was saying something. "Who is Cass?"

"An angel who rescued Dean from hell." Sam said as if he were telling me the capital of the country. "Anyway, we met that one and a couple others."

"Wait, back up the truck. An angel that rescued Dean from hell? What?"

"I went to hell, what was it a year, year and a half? Yeah something like that. I died to save his ass and did some time in the hot box before an angel pulled me out." I'm in a car with lunatics. Complete and total lunatics. Dean actually believed that he went to hell. He believes that he was raised from the dead. Wow. I think I need out of this car as soon as possible.

"That one did suck." Sam said in agreement. Dean and Sam had continued the conversation without me, and I wasn't positive what they were talking about, and the longer they talk the more I'm not so sure I want to know.

"And fugly as hell."

"Anyway. Pagan Gods can be tied to all sorts of things, however, most are tied to seasons. It might be a ghost, and we'll have to do some more digging, but I did research before we took off and the killings seem to be more of the Pagan God flavor."

"You still there pretty boy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, just digesting."

"Sam, he shouldn't be with us. If he does this, he's going to end up bleeding, and probably scarring and God forbid that happens, can't ruin pretty boy's face." Dean said as if I wasn't in the car, the flames of my anger were stoked. "Plus he's going to be a liability. He's got the muscle, but you can't tell me that he knows how to use it beyond the weight room."

Now I was pissed. "Look you son of a bitch. I agreed to this stupid little acid trip, and I intend to see it through. Quit talking about me like I'm not in the damn car. I'm doing this." Oh shit. I shouldn't have said that. I should have just gotten out of the car and run for my life, but instead, because of my stubborn bull headedness, I was fighting to stay in the car, fighting to continue on this impossible journey. I am completely a moron, and next time I get angry, I need to just simply keep my mouth shut.

"Ohhh.. Looks like pretty boy has spunk Sammy." I resisted the urge to cross my arms and pout, pretty boy has spunk, pretty boy has anger, and most of all, pretty boy has a name.


	4. Chapter 4

After eating some really greasy diner food, after discussing the method of which we would find/take out the "fugly" thing (Dean's word not mine…however, I may have to steal it), they finally decided that they needed to rest for the night. My relief was short lived when I saw the place they decided we would check into for the night. It was so run down that calling it run down was being polite. The guy at the desk, was missing teeth, and really didn't want us interrupting his gun cleaning session, and threw the keys at the Winchesters and then did the same to me after my credit card had been run through.

"Used to sleeping in fancy hotel rooms aren't you pretty boy?"

"I'm used to sleeping some place clean." I muttered.

"Well, that ain't the way we get to live." He said and disappeared into the room next to mine, Sam gave me a weak smile and disappeared behind his big brother.

I opened my door and was shocked at the sight that greeted me. It wasn't dirty, it was WEIRD. The room had beads hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. I suppose it was to separate the room into two separate living areas, and while hanging down and still, the beads depicted silhouetted nude women. This place, I think, was meant for by the hour clients. I really hope no one from the media seems me here.

And as if to add insult to injury, the bedspread was puke green, and the owner seemed to have decided that tile was easier to clean than carpet, so under my feet was nothing but red tile. Where in the hell do you even find this shade of red tile? This room makes you want to throw up more than it does have sex. Wow. I didn't even know places like this existed. And how in the world did these two find it?

I took a shower with I think a roach took a shower with me. I'm not entirely sure, but I think so, all I really know is that it was rather large, it was on my foot, and I screamed like a girl and shook it off. I took my contacts out before I got into the shower, and now I'm thinking I'm glad I did because I can only imagine my reaction had I actually been able to see the thing. This was turning into one of the worst things I've ever done for a part, and this for a part I'm not even sure is going to get picked up beyond the pilot.

After my shower I grabbed my blackberry and got comfortable on the bed, well comfortable wasn't exactly the right word, but I was on the bed, and I was reading a text from my agent when there was a knock on the door.

I sighed, probably someone wanting to sell me sex toys, or ask me if I would like a complimentary roach trap, or maybe they were offering me the drugs one needs to actually be able to stay in a place like this and not want to throw up.

When the door opened, I was surprised, it was Sam. "Hey Aaron." He said with a tight lipped smile. It's sad, but I was just thrilled to hear my real name.

"Sam?" I asked and moved away so he could step inside. Sam filled a room up entirely when he entered, he was just so large. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to give you some of the information on the case." He said and handed me the file folder that was in his hands. I looked through it and laughed. They couldn't be serious. Sam couldn't really believe this stuff, he had to be just indulging in Dean's delusions.

"Really, Sam, you can't believe this stuff. I mean your brother…" Sam's eyes clouded over, and suddenly that large body seemed larger and scarier.

"What about my brother?" He said darkly, and for a moment, I actually feared for my life.

"He's just a little off the deep end Sam. I understand him believing all of this carp, but you….you…..you went to Stanford…"

"What does Stanford have to do with anything? You saying that my brother isn't smart?"

"No, I'm just saying…"

"Spit it out little man," Now, I'm 6'2, I've never been called 'little man' in my life, but right now, with this guy, I felt an inch and a half tall, and to be perfectly honest, I was scared to death.

"I, uh, you know, just figured that you would be more rational." Sam starred at me hard, and I wanted to shrink into the ugly red tile. I think he could kill me with one hit to the nose.

"Wow. Have you read the book series? Or are you just guessing?"

"I didn't read the books."

"Here's the deal. My brother, yeah the one you think is stupid and irrational, has survived more crap in the last two years than you will be able to survive your whole life, and all the while, I've betrayed him, hurt him, and trusted…" Sam visibly swallowed and willed the tears not to come. There was something there, there was something I needed to know, something that would complete this man, this giant, that obviously got emotional when talking about a big brother who was a jerk. "I trusted someone that I shouldn't have, and didn't trust my brother enough, yet he still is here, still lets me be around, he doesn't abandon people that he loves. Even if they abandon him first."

The beginning of the pilot made sense suddenly. I licked my lips. "Stanford. Your normal life with Jessica." I said softly. His hazel eyes jerked to mine.

"How?"

"I was in the middle of reading the pilot script, before your brother threw it out of the window. It starts with Dean breaking into.."

"My apartment….he said…"

"Looking for a beer."

"Oh God. Did they copy this word for word?" Sam asked horrified and embarrassed.

"Was she wearing a shirt with Smurfs on it?"

Sam swallowed. "Yeah."

"Then yes." Sam seemed to regroup for a second and then he looked me in the eye.

"Please, please, do my brother justice. He's not just a jerk, or loud, or whatever. He truly cares about people….about me…about Bobby….about the people we save. He pretends he doesn't. But he does." Sam started to leave and I stopped him, it's like a mouse stopping a giant cat just to taunt him. I suppose I'm that stupid.

"Is that what you came here for?"

"No. But what I came for now is just stupid. Good night. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow so be ready at 6. Dean will leave you behind if you aren't ready."

I was left with a curious feeling when Sam left. I walked sort of zombie like back to the bed and picked up my blackberry, I looked at the photo that had been texted to me. It was the man who was going to play Sam. His face was so bright, so shiny, so happy, that I wondered if he could play the man that just left the room, and I wonder if I will ever be able to play the man who inspires such love and devotion in a little brother. I took this role thinking, yeah a steady pay check would be nice, starring role on a tv series would help my career, fatten up my résumé, but now, now, I think that this role may be the role of a lifetime…and I better not screw it up.


	5. Chapter 5

I was up knocking on their door at 5:30 in the morning. Dean answered and looked frustrated that I was there.

"You were hoping that I was going to over sleep." I said with a smirk. For some reason it gave me pleasure to annoy the hell out of him.

"Thought crossed my mind pretty boy." He opened the door all of the way and Sam put the gun he was holding back in the waist of his pants.

"I read the file Sam gave me last night."

"And what do you want? A cookie for reading?" I ignored the comment.

"First, if they really are Pagan Gods, and not some spirit, or whatever, how are we going to take them out?"

"You believe us?" Sam asked.

"No. But I'm going to go with it and just see how it goes."

"Sam, he can't come with us. He's a freaking civilian. This is a Pagan God!"

"I'm right here." I said frustrated about being talked about rather than talked to.

"Whatever." Dean said with a roll of his eyes and looked back to his brother. "I can't risk having him with us. Someone will miss him if he dies, it's not like no one will notice. He's pretty famous." When I met the guy, he had no idea who the hell I was. Looks like both of us did some research last night. "I don't want to take someone who only thinks they know how to handle a gun with us, we can't protect him and kill the bad guy."

"I know how to use a gun."

"A real gun pretty boy. Real. Not one of those things that fifty thousand people have looked at and made sure no one can get hurt from it."

"I'm from Texas. I know how to use a gun. My dad and I used to go hunting all of the time, and when I go home that's what we do. I'm pretty comfortable using a gun."

"That so?"

"That's so."

"Huh. Pretty boy might be useful." He said to Sam.

"Yeah, and Pretty Boy read the material, and would like to know how the oh wise masters of hunting intend on catching this thing and killing it."

"That's all about the leg work." Sam said. "Today we do some checking in with the victim's families."

"How are you going to do that?"

"We're going to be the insurance adjusters."

"And people seriously will talk to you guys?"

"One thing you have to understand, Pretty Boy, is that people are trusting souls. If you tell them that you are God, generally they will believe you with very little proof. It's like, you, how many times have you told someone in the air port or whatever that you really aren't the actor Aaron Shepherd?" Dean had a point. I had told people that several times, when I just wanted to be left alone, and they believed me, apologized even.

"True."

"You have a suit with you?" Sam asked.

"No, I didn't think to bring one." Sam looked at Dean, and a message transpired between the two of them that was silent, and meant for the two of them only. It was weird to watch. I've only seen twins communicate nonverbally.

"Okay, then you need to talk to the locals around here. Get a feel for how the town works." I nodded.

"But first Pretty Boy, breakfast. We need to eat."

"He needs to eat." Sam amended and rolled his eyes.

***

We reconvened at the motel room later in the evening, and we all had information. Turns out that this pagan god seemed to be indiscriminate of who it kills: men, women, young, old, middle aged it didn't' seem to matter.

"What do you got Pretty Boy?" Dean asked as he sat down on the bed facing me.

"I don't know. I got a lot of information. Don't know what's useful and what isn't."

"Let us do the sifting, just talk."

"Well, Jamie Chivers told me that…." And I shared, and shared, and shared. I must have talked to a hundred people today, asking about the deaths in the most surreptitious way possible. By the time my cell rang and Dean told me to "get my ass back to the motel" my jaw was aching from talking so much and I was thankful to be able to come back to the motel, despite the roach issue. Basically everyone said the same thing. The people killed had been involved in affairs, were plotting against their mothers or fathers or siblings, weren't really good to their families, and some of the people even went so far as to say that it wasn't the worst thing in the world that these people had died. That bothered me.

"Great." Sam said with a sigh. "Just freaking perfect. Of course we are going to run into a Pagan God who is the God of family. Of course it's going to be out to much on ungrateful people who have hurt their family. Of course!" Sam stood and grabbed his jacket.

"Sammy." Dean said by way of stopping him.

"I just need air."

"There is a Pagan God on the loose."

"I have my gun."

"Sammy…."

"Just leave me alone Dean. I'll be fine." There were more words exchanged silently between the brothers, and once again I wished I could understand what they were saying. The door slammed and it startled me, but didn't faze Dean. He simply sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Did I miss…"

"Dude, you've missed so much I don't even know where to start to catch you up."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You think you can waltz in here, watch me walk, talk, and interact with my brother and think you have me down cold turkey and can go onto some set that looks like any of a dozen motels I've lived out of and play me. Dude, you have no idea."

"Sam said last night that you'd been through some really tough crap." Dean gave me a cold glare.

"I've seen stuff that you can't even dream of." I licked my lips and stood to go. I heard Dean sigh and then say, "My brother and I have had it rough in the last couple of years. Things have happened to both of us, and we aren't as close as we used to be." My God if they were any closer they would be Siamese twins. Doesn't he see it? "He thinks it's his fault, I think some of it is his fault, I think most of it is my fault and I think that we are both just screwed, and if this Pagan God is after people who have hurt and betrayed their families, Sammy is in danger. Because facts are facts and he betrayed the hell out of me last year, and if the God finds him, he's going to be their next victim." Dean took a deep breath and turned. "I've got to go find him. I have to protect him." He mumbled the last and hurried out of the room and left me alone in the sex roach motel. Dean didn't see it. How could he not see it?

**

I went back to my room, looked at my blackberry again and looked at the man who would play my Sam, and I made a snap decision and dialed.

"Jack? I need the number for the guy I'm going to be working on Supernatural with, Andrew Prichard."


	6. Chapter 6

I couldn't get a hold of the guy, so I decided to get a shower and get ready for bed. This time, I wore socks in the shower. When I was in college, we used to have these bootie things that covered your feet so you wouldn't get athlete's foot, and I wished that I had had the foreknowledge to bring mine. It probably would make this whole showering thing much easier.

I had a towel wrapped around my waist when I went out into the room portion of the dump I was staying in when I noted that there was someone sitting on my bed, I shoved my glasses on and saw that it was Dean.

"Oh, so pretty boy has some flaws after all." He said sarcastically.

"What are you doing in here?"

"It looks like you can be useful to this hunt after all."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. So get dressed pretty boy and come to our room. We need to do some serious prep work."

Dean got up and headed to the door, he walked like he owned the room, not like he had broken in and was sitting on my bed waiting for me like a stalker. Dean was an interesting person.

"Wait. How did you get in here?" I finally asked.

"Oh, please, these locks are a cake walk. Might as well not even be there." He smirked at me and left the room.

I knocked on their door twenty minutes later and Sam answered looking, sad, tired and haggard. "Took you long enough to get here pretty boy…primp much?" Dean asked from his spot leaning against the chest of drawers, arms crossed tightly across his chest. I chose to ignore his comment.

"You ever betrayed your family?" Dean asked bluntly.

"Betrayed?" I asked confused.

"You know, gone behind their back and done something that would truly hurt them."

"No."

"Good. See Sammy told ya. He's from Texas. They respect their family." Sam's eyes fell down to his shoes for a moment and then forced himself to look up and at his brother. Sam had mentioned, Dean too for that matter, that something had happened and Sam had done something that he probably shouldn't have. It must have been ten times worse than anything I had imagined. What had the guy done? "So, the deal is this. Sam is going to be bait for these Gods, and then you and I are going to go in behind him and kill the sons of bitches with silver and fire."

"Wait. We're going kill people?"

"They aren't people. They are gods. And yeah. Guns to get them down and fire to make them extra crispy."

Yeah. Of course. Naturally. "But these things will look human?"

"Yeah. Have to blend in. You know how to use a gun?"

"Like you said. I'm from Texas."

"Good. Now here's the plan…" And Dean and Sam outlined their plan, well Dean mainly, Sam chimed in from time to time, but spent most of it not looking at his brother, and Dean didn't spend too much time looking at Sam either. Dean's face was hard, stonish even, and his eyes were intense, he had this eye on the prize determination going, and Sam looked like he was itching to be anywhere but here, and each and every time Dean said the word betray, Sam flinched, readjusted himself on the bed and looked down, and seemed to have to fight his way back to looking in our general vicinity.

Whatever happened between the two of them must have been fierce, must have been horrible, either that or the pilot script I read was off by miles. Dean finished up his briefing, because it sure as hell couldn't have been anything else, and he left me and Sam alone, he mumbled something about needing a drink and about being back in an hour and we would roll, and left without looking back. I looked at Sam and couldn't help feeling like we were two soldiers in a war that neither of us wanted to be in, and hell I didn't even believe in half of this stuff.

Sam stood and went to a green duffel and began taking out weapons and checking them, taking out magazines and searching for ones that were loaded with what he needed.

"Sam?"

"You better go back to your room and get ready."

"Sam, what is wrong with Dean?" Sam gave a small sad laugh.

"He made it clear. I betrayed him, and he can't forgive me."

Now, I got the whole betrayal thing, but I didn't get the whole can't forgive thing. I got that Dean was incredibly hurt, and I seemed to sense some guilt on his part, guilt for what I have no idea, but while he starred anywhere but Sam, I noted guilt pass over his features when he mentioned the betrayal.

"I think he can't forgive himself." I finally said hoping that I wasn't overstepping my bounds, I mean the guy was the size of a small mountain and he had weapons in his hands, and I get the impression the two of them don't' hesitate to kill much.

Sam slowly looked up at me, and blinked slowly. "My brother has nothing he needs to forgive himself for. I am the one who betrayed my family."

I paused and chose my next words carefully. "I read the first episode, I know that it isn't word for word you life.." I said hastily.

"Actually it's pretty good. I got a copy from Chuck sent to me last night. It's pretty much exactly how it went." Sam said as he went back to preparing his weapons.

"Well then, I can tell you this, your brother loves you enough to run into a burning apartment building to save your life even after you hadn't spoken to him for four years, and he was obviously hurt by that. I don't think you could ever do anything that your brother would never forgive you for."

Sam looked up at me quizzically. Head tilted and hazel eyes confused. "I'm going to go get ready now." I said and turned for the door and was just about there when Sam stopped me.

"I've done some horrible things, I've…" Sam swallowed. "I've started the end of the world."

"You started the end of Dean's world when you left him, he forgave you that. He forgives you for this, he's just really hurt." I shrugged. "That's what I think, but I've only known the bastard for a couple of days." I had just stepped out of the door when Sam called out to me.

"Aaron, I'm glad you are playing Dean."

I suddenly felt honored to play this everyman, this bastard, this man. That was a key to this crazy business. Sam's pride in Dean, makes Dean have pride in himself. I have to remember that.


	7. Chapter 7

They said the hunt was successful, but if successful is me driving Dean's car, and Dean in the back seat with Sam's bloodied and battered body laying on his lap, then I didn't want to know what an unsuccessful hunt was.

"Faster Aaron, faster." Dean muttered. It was the first time he actually called me by my given name, and I found that I would rather be called "pretty boy." At least then I wouldn't have to hear the pain and fear in his voice. That seemed worse than anything else I'd ever heard. The two of them may have some issues, but one thing was for absolute certain they were each other's world. Not in a weird, incest kind of way, not in a codependent sort of way. It was a relationship founded on love, trust, common memories, and respect. The two of them would do anything for each other, they would go to the farthest reaches of the planet, or even to hell and back for the other, and that was admirable.

"I'm going as fast as I can. I promise."

We got to the motel room and Dean wouldn't allow me to help him carry Sam, even though Dean struggled under his brother's weight and gangly limbs. I opened the doors for him dumbly because I needed to do something. No sooner had I closed the door and Dean had his brother on the bed then I was sent on errands back and forth to the car.

I retrieved medical supplies and their duffels, and was put to work being a doctor's assistant, and I watched as Dean put dental floss stitches into his brother's abdomen, and leg, and then I watched as he leaned over and whispered "I'm sorry Sammy." And with a grimace popped Sam's shoulder back into place, that sadly was the only thing that roused Sam from unconsciousness even for a moment, and when Dean's eyes met Sam's they were filled with compassion and reassurance. But the moment Sam's eyes closed again, Dean's eyes returned to displaying fear, worry, and plain and simple wariness. When Dean was sure that Sam was down for the count he fell into the chair he had me put next to Sam's bed and stared at his little brother.

I suddenly felt like an intruder, my services were no longer needed, and it felt like a moment that I wasn't invited to witness, too private, too full of pain and grief.

I stood to leave and Dean began to talk. "I've sat by his bedside like this too many times." He said. I turned, he was talking to me, but not TO me. He was looking at his brother while he continued. "He died about three years ago." Dean's voice was thick, he licked his lips and sat forward and stared harder at his brother. "I sold my soul because I couldn't' stand the idea of living alone, of living without him. It's not that I love him like THAT or anything, but he's been my world since I was four years old and my dad put him in my arms and told me to protect him. I've protected him so long, that I don't know who I am without that part of me." He ran a hand down his face. "Yeah," he gave a sad laugh. "I do. I'm not someone I want to know."

I felt suddenly like a priest listening to a confession, and found myself sitting down on the other bed gently, afraid of disturbing Dean's confession. "I went to hell for him. And while I was down there, I fantasized that he was living his life, away from hunting, away from the life he never liked, and I imagined that he had his own family, his own kids, and I imagined that he named one of his sons Dean." Dean snorted and sat back against the back of the chair. "That was what got me through most of my time in hell. That's the only way I could make it, the only way I could endure the never ending pain and torture. But when I got back, I found out that he betrayed me. Betrayed everything we stood for, was drinking demon blood for God's sake. I lost sight for a while what was important, hell, I'm not sure if I have it in perspective now."

"You never realized just how much Sam needed you?" I ventured to say.

"I guess. I always figured that since he went to Stanford, and was able to always leave me behind that when I died, he….he would be able to survive, maybe even thrive. I never thought…."

"That your death would take the same toll on him that his took on you?" Dean nodded.

"I just didn't think. I haven't done my job very well. I haven't protected him like I should, but I've done all that I know how. It just hasn't been enough." And with that Dean quit speaking, and it wasn't as if he just stopped talking, it was like he pulled the whole world down around him and Sam, like he tucked it around them and kept them safe from the outside world, and the world only consisted of the two of them. It left me feeling cold.

***

The next time I saw Dean, it was unexpected, and I was totally unprepared. The show was picked up, hell we'd made it to a second season, fans were nuts, and wonderful and devoted as hell, and they made sure we made it, and I was sitting on a chair in dark dank set, waiting for the director to call action, and for Andrew to do his best to look dead, when I saw Dean and Sam walk in from the back of the room. Dean used his hunter's eye to look at the scene before him, and he actually took a step back and blanched. Sam smiled a little and waved and then stuck his hands deep into his pockets, discomfort radiating off of him like heat from metal in the summer.

I swallowed hard. This wasn't an audience I had been prepared to perform in front of. I had already had the director cut this scene down to the fewest shots possible, because I wanted to give it my all, and I already could feel the tears welling behind my eyes, and the emotions churning in my stomach. Dean looked like he wanted to fly, like he wanted to escape, and Sam looked at him and seemed to give him some form of confidence.

The director called us to our places, the set was quieted down, and action was called, and I began my monologue.

"_Ya' know when we were little. When you couldn't have been more than five. You just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom, why did we always have to move around, where did dad go? He would take off for days at a time. I remember I begged you to quit asking Sammy, you didn't want to know. I just wanted you to be a kid just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you. Keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me, it was just always my responsibility, you know. It's like I had one job. One job and I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down, and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy. God. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?!_

I didn't look away from Andrew, I watched as his body laid there still and lifeless, and I thought about how much I would miss him, then I thought about Dean, and how much he would miss Sammy, how much he did miss Sammy, and the tears flowed, my voice hitched, and I truly began to cry. I wiped at my face, and I continued with the scene, giving each and ever ounce of myself as I spoke that monologue. And eventually, I didn't even realize that I was speaking my lines, I felt like I was truly saying these things out of my own head, that they were my words to speak, and that it was my heartbreak and my devastation that I was feeling, not my character's. And we did the scene four times, because that was all I could take, and when we were done, Andrew came over and checked on me, patted my back as I worked my way back down from the emotional abyss that I had fallen into. Once I had my shit together, I looked for Sam and Dean, and only found Sam, he was walking onto the set, he was standing in front of the bed that Andrew had been laying on and he looked wounded and sad beyond words.

I excused myself from Andrew, thanked him with a pat on the back, and went to Sam. Sam stood there for a moment and he looked as if he wanted to speak, and I waited and he finally said, "Dean couldn't take it after the first run through. He all but ran. But I couldn't leave. I couldn't not see this over and over again. I felt like I had to, like I had to keep seeing it to understand it. And I do, I understand now." Sam said and gave me his full attention, and his eyes were swimming in tears. "I know now why Dean sold his soul." The tears started down his face, and he gave an embarrassed smile, pried his hands out of his pockets and wiped his face. "You and him." He nodded towards Andrew, and I looked where he was pointing and found him with one of the grips laughing and carrying on about something, and then I turned back to Sam and waited for him to continue. "You and him." He repeated after swallowing the lump in his throat. "You're like me and Dean. I watch the show. Dean doesn't always. But I always try. I also saw some of the conventions on youtube, you guys really are like brothers, you are like us. You guys got it right. And if you guys get everything else right, then I have to believe that you got this right." He motioned to the bed. "I didn't know.." He choked up, cleared his throat, and continued. "I didn't know that Dean was that devastated. I thought he did it because he didn't want to live anymore after what happened to Dad, thought he was selfish. But truly, it wasn't any of that.." he said and stared down at the fake blood stain on the bed.

"I woke up scared, and in pain. But Dean came back to me, and he hugged me so tight, and I…" he stopped and searched for words. "I should have known better." We stood there in silence and then as if cued to end the awkward moment Andrew showed up and slapped me on the shoulder.

"Hey there! Andrew Prichard." He stuck his hand out to Sam and Sam starred at him and finally said.

"I'm Sam Winchester." Andrew's hazel eyes lighted up with mirth.

"Serious?"

"Serious." Andrew's face fell and he looked to me questioningly, and over the last two years we had developed our own silent communication, I told him that it was in fact Sam Winchester. We had become the best of friends since this whole thing started and I told him one night about the real Sam and Dean Winchester, and about the hunt, and about the epic family bond they shared. Andrew's eyes were wide and he licked his lips.

"It's an honor to meet you." I patted Andrew on the back and left him with Sam and I went on the hunt for the older brother. I found Dean not too far from the stage and he was standing there staring at nothing and tears were streaming down his face.

"Dean?" He didn't answer, he didn't move. "Dean?" I tried again now standing right next to him.

"You got it right you know. That is exactly how it happened. I just couldn't watch it. I couldn't' live it again. You were doing it…doing it just so…" Dean was at a loss for words and I looked down at my shoes, trying to give him some measure of dignity. He took a deep breath and said, "I couldn't' live the worst day of my life again."

"Worse than getting torn to shreds by hell hounds?" Dean nodded and swallowed hard. "Worse than hell? Worse than being betrayed?" Dean turned to me and his eyes were intense, the same intensity that I had seen while we were hunting.

"Holding my little brother while the life drained out of him, not able to do anything to help him, feeling his body go limp, feeling the last breath leave him. That is the worst thing I have ever lived through. That was worse than dying. I was supposed to protect him. It was…"

"…your job." I finished. And Dean nodded.

"And I think you understand that." I nodded, because somewhere in the middle of the dialogue, I realized that it was the worst thing in the world to live through. Sam and Andrew came outside and interrupted our camaraderie.

"Dean we need to get going."

"We do." He said softly and took a deep breath and pulled the keys out of his pocket.

"You keep doin' what you're doin' pretty boy. You're doing it right." Dean finally said and I was speechless. That was high praise from the man who I admired more than any other, the man who was willing to sacrifice everything so others wouldn't have to suffer the same pain that he had endured his whole life. "Come on Sammy. Let's leave pretty boy and his pretty boy brother to do what they do best. We've got to go and do what we do best." Sam nodded and the two brothers waved bye and walked shoulder to shoulder out of the lot.


End file.
